


hand in unloveable hand

by jarorrakunsenpaisan



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Asexual Character, Blood and Gore, Clans, Emotions, F/F, F/M, Gangs, M/M, Murder, Slow Burn, Tragic Romance, Vampires, cassette tapes, records, rock music, there’s a lot going on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22071460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarorrakunsenpaisan/pseuds/jarorrakunsenpaisan
Summary: Shikamaru almost laughs out loud at how simple this mission is. He’s just been assigned to kill the softest guy he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting, and so far, the only thing standing in his way is the cassette tapes strewn on the floor.The curtain rises.
Relationships: Akimichi Chouji/Nara Shikamaru, Haruno Sakura/Yamanaka Ino, Nara Shikamaru & Everyone, Nara Shikamaru & Sarutobi Asuma, Nara Shikamaru & Temari, Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	hand in unloveable hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flosus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flosus/gifts).



> hey y’all. here i am, back again with another naruto fic that i’ll probably take forever to finish. but you know what? we’re gonna go for it anyways because it’s 2020 and this year, i’m gonna finish ONE(1) fic. yes.
> 
> (also, here you are my gal. the gift fic i’ve been hyping up for a good few weeks. enjoy.)

In his world, this is his only relief. 

“You _ suck _ at this.” 

“Yeah, yeah.”

“How have you not learned anything when all I do is give you strategy after strategy?”

“Just move your goddamn knight and get it over with.” 

He does. He takes out the queen. He wins the game. 

Asuma releases a long drag, the smoke unfurling into Shikamaru’s face. 

“Why do we even play when you always win?”

“Excuse you, I let you win sometimes. Keeps you on your toes.” 

Asuma chuckles, his eyes softening and ripening in the dim light of the moon. He puts his stub of a cigarette out and then stands, looking out over the bare lawn. 

The moon is high in the sky, crowning the mountains in its glory. Asuma stares at it with a longing Shikamaru can’t understand, and then meets his eyes. 

“You should probably go. Don’t want a child’s untimely expulsion on my hands because he refused to abide by curfew rules.” 

Shikamaru leans back, propping himself up on a forearm and letting his head droop to the side. 

“They can’t expel me. Kakuzu and Hidan pay them too much.” 

Asuma shrugs, and his open face hardens. 

“Then I don’t want you to get yelled at by your guardians. Go back to your dorm.” 

“What a drag,” Shikamaru groans, forcing his loose limbs to pull him up to his feet. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and nods to his mentor. “I’ll see you next week, coach.” 

“Don’t get yourself killed before then, brat.” 

Asuma says it with a smile and a joking lilt in his voice. 

He has no idea. 

//

Shikamaru doesn’t remember when he learned to stop feeling ashamed of himself. It might have been when he made his first kill, or the first time he’d slit his wrists. Sometimes, he thinks it happened the moment he’d been “adopted” by Hidan and Kakuzu. 

Back when Shikamaru had first met them, he’d been seven and impressionable enough to believe just about anything. His parents had been naive to allow him to come to a work party. Who brings their kids to a party with adults and booze? 

The night he’d been taken away, he remembers a lot of driving. Blurred lights in the distance, darkness that seemed to stretch on forever, old sounding rock music. Many unanswered questions and an abundance of feelings little him couldn’t cope with. 

Of course, that had just been the beginning. After the initial shock, there had been blood and fighting and pain. And, at the end of it all, understanding and acceptance. 

Nowadays, he could probably be tortured for seventy-two hours without batting an eye. 

Kakuzu and Hidan are proud of what he’s become. 

He supposes he is too. It’s impressive, after all. 

//

Temari is the only friend he has that he’s actually allowed to be seen with. She’s the daughter of one of Hidan’s right hand men, and therefore acceptable to be around. 

She’s Shikamaru intended according to every person in the Junketsu. 

To each other, they’re romantically uninterested, but they do find comfort in each other’s presence when their parents think they’re snogging or plotting the demise of one of their rival clans. They have a system, which is to fake it ‘till they make it. Up to now, their plan has worked. No one suspects a thing. They intend to keep it that way, even when they’re inclined to get married and have kids and become a lovely satanic version of Bonnie and Clyde. 

They’re both high functioning geniuses, so they spend most of the designated plotting times smoking weed. 

“Have they given you a new assignment yet?” 

Temari hands the blunt to Shikamaru and lays her head back into the curve of his armpit. 

He sighs, inhaling and exhaling some smoke before answering. 

“I’ve been told yes, but he’s yet to show up.” 

Temari hums. 

“I feel bad for you. You always get the assholes.” 

“It’s just another way to get better at it, I guess. Trains me to numb even more of my emotions.” 

They both snort at that(because what more can they do), and then fall into silence as they both get high off of cheap weed. 

Shikamaru has made plenty of kills in his thirty years of life, but his recent post has given him three fruitful murders. 

His guardians are very clever, he’ll give them that. Though he loathes attending college and listening to people drone on about things he’s known for decades, it’s the perfect way to get close to people. Especially when they’re your roommate. 

Kakuzu sends loads of money to the main operator of his university, and in exchange, Shikamaru gets his targets’ lives handed to him on a silver platter. 

His first “roommate” had been Neji Hyuuga. He’d been tougher to befriend, since he was the type to remain cool and reserved(and sort of rude)toward anyone attempting to pursue friendship. But after seducing and dating his cousin, Hinata, Neji gave him a chance. It was easy dicing from there. They blamed the death on suicide. The guy was pretty depressed anyways, so it fit. 

Breaking up with Hinata had been almost as easy as the murder. He just blamed it on the grief he was pretending to feel for her deceased cousin. 

Roomate number two was one Kabuto Yakushi. Shikamaru hated the living  _ daylights _ out of him, but just like always, he shoved his feelings down and became best friends with him. Kabuto was similar to him in the way that he was manipulative and cunning and an utter shithead to everyone around him. Staging his death as a hit-and-run was simple enough. 

His most recent roommate, and marking his third consecutive kill without gaining a cent of suspicion from even a single person, was Rock Lee. He had been a hard one to get actually close to since he functioned at a thousand light years per second. Shikamaru had to act completely different in order to become close emotionally, but Lee was such a vulnerable person that he trusted Shikamaru almost immediately. The death had been blamed on dehydration and exhaustion. 

Now, he’s going for a fourth job finished at the same post. He’d been told that his assignment would arrive at the dorm within a week or so, but it’s already day seven out of seven, and there’s no sign. 

“I wonder if someone else killed him off before I got the chance to.”

Temari clicks her tongue. 

“If they did, they’d also be dead.” 

“True.” 

Kakuzu and Hidan don’t take kindly to anyone stealing higher up assignments meant for the more experienced. 

He’d learned that first hand. 

Shikamaru brings up a hand and traces the lines of his scar, following it over his nose and up his cheek. It makes him look badass, he’ll admit, but also reminds him of worse times. 

“Still, it’s odd he hasn’t shown up yet.” He mumbles. 

Temari stretches before she sits up and places the last of the blunt on the counter, watching it shrivel up and burn out. 

“Maybe he  _ has _ and you’re wasting precious mission time smoking doozies with me.” 

Shikamaru sits up as well, nudging Temari’s foot with his own. 

“Sure beats pretending to be someone else for two weeks.” 

“I’m sure you can bring that down by a half, can’t you?” Temari smiles at him, her eyes gleaming. “I’m sure the prodigy of our clan’s leaders can manage that.” 

“Is that a challenge, No Sabaku?” 

Temari leans forward and pushes at Shikamaru’s shoulder playfully. 

“You bet it is.”

If there’s anyone he’s being forced to marry, he’s glad it’s her. 

“Well then, I will see you in a week. Tell Gaara that I’m about to beat his record.” 

“He will not like that,” Temari says slowly, falling backwards onto the bed. “And neither will Kankuro  _ I-almost-beat-him-by-a-minute _ No Sabaku.” 

Shikamaru collects his backpack on the way out, slipping one strap over his shoulder. 

“They can both suck it.” 

The last thing he hears is a laugh as the door closes. 

//

Temari was completely and wholly correct. When Shikamaru unlocks the door to his usually quiet dorm, he’s immediately greeted with the familiar strum of a guitar. 

“Hello?” 

The music cuts short, and then there’s a crash. 

Shikamaru walks down the small entryway and peeks around the corner, witnessing his roommate for the first time. 

Even before he can begin to analyse his dorm mate, he notices a large stack of vinyl records in and on the headboard cubbies of the bed. 

He loves playing old music on vinyl records. And from the way the corners of the folders are torn and the covers are faded, he can guess that they were purchased from a vintage record store. And he loves checking out record stores for hidden gems. 

It takes most of his willpower to not blurt all of this and risk exposing the real him to his assignment, but he manages to do it. 

His new best friend is tall, large, and has a red mane of hair that looks even more untamable than Shikamaru’s. His cheeks are pink, and he’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that he probably just bought from the gift shop, judging by the perm pressed folds on the sleeves. He smells like marshmallows—almost sickly sweet. Most interestingly, he’s holding a guitar and standing before a mess of cassette tapes. There must be at least a hundred of them, and they all share one thing—neon shades. 

“H-Hi, um, I’m Choji Akimichi.” He wipes his hands on his pants and steps forward, holding his hand out stiffly. “Nice to meet you.” 

Shikamaru raises an eyebrow, eyes darting between the guitar and  _ Choji _ for a moment before he shakes his hand. (It is surprisingly soft, if not a bit clammy.)

“I’m Shikamaru Nara. That’s a shitload of CD’s you’ve got there.” 

Choji chuckles warily, scratching at the nape of his neck. 

“Oh, yeah. I’m somewhat of a collector. These aren’t even all of them.” He laughs again, awkwardly, and the air shifts a little. “I’m having them brought in by the box as soon as I figure out a way to fit all of them in this tiny room.” 

_ He’s so...innocent.  _

Shikamaru almost laughs out loud at how simple this mission is. He’s just been assigned to kill the softest guy he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting, and so far, the only thing standing in his way is the cassette tapes strewn on the floor. 

He nods with a smirk. 

“Maybe I can help you find a solution.” 

Choji’s eyes light up. 

The curtain rises. 

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment? some kudos? some feedback? literally roast me with critiques, i don’t care.
> 
> also, this fic has a theme song! if you’d like to listen and be possibly terrified of what is to come in this story, go give no children by the mountain goats a listen! (it’s a bop either way.)
> 
> gracias for the reads, my friends. go check out my [tumblr!](https://jen-thine-hen.tumblr.com)


End file.
